It took a moment for my eyes to adjust when I stumbled into the big barn. Only streams of scattered summer sun peeked in through the cracks of the wooden door, but even in the darkness, I knew there was an adventure waiting to be revealed.
With the flip of a switch, the suspended glass lights above me began to glow, their reflections doubling and tripling as they cast their shine down onto a faded dust cover. Brushing aside a vague recollection of being told to stay away from the barn, I pulled up a tattered corner of the cover and felt the smooth painted fiberglass and outline of chrome letters underneath my fingertips.
The open road is a beautiful journey in itself, you can never really get lost. With each twist and turn, I felt invincible — the warm breeze knotting my hair, the wind kissing my face, the pavement as smooth as glass under my tires.
For a moment I glanced back, worried at the quickly approaching night. But as I looked ahead at the road extending infinitely onward into the fading daylight, I smiled to myself, thinking only of what lay beyond the next bend.
Before I even opened my hazy, heavy eyes, I could sense we were home. I don't remember falling asleep, or even when I started dreaming. In warm, familiar arms, I was carried to my bed, where the quiet of the night lulled me back into my own world.
The lights dimmed down to a warm glow, the bedroom door creaked closed, and with that, my head filled with the sweet hum of an engine, the rhythmic rumbling like a favorite song. In an instant, I was drifting down the open road again as it stretched out in front of me. But this time, I didn't look back, not even for a second.